And The Stars Burned
by sinking815
Summary: Some Naboo believe thunderstorms on a wedding night are a symbol of unbridled passion that can destroy in its violent delight. Some say thunderstorms embody the power true love can have on more than just the lovers. Padme doesn't know what to believe as she watches one approach - she just knows that she's in love. A/P AOTC wedding canon.


**" _The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars." ~Matthew Stover,_ _Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith_**

 _A/N: I'm still a bit jaded by the fact that we didn't get at least a peak at the wedding night of Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala. Call it voyeuristic, but I think the moment of their consummation would made for quite a poignant end to AOTC. Epic love, forbidden love, sinful love - whatever you want to call it. Naturally, whenever I think someone has failed to capitalize on such moments, I tend to fill in for them. I truly don't know what it is that I find so fascinating with their tragic love story, but I think Matthew Stover's quote above manages to capture some of the beauty in their story. In deference and in honor of his unique voice in his novelization of_ Revenge of the Sith _, I've tried to adapt that narrative style to fleshing out a scene I think a lot of A/P fans would have loved to see on screen. Hopefully, my attempt at writing it can give it the life it so deserves. As always, reviews are appreciated! (Side note: I apologize to all the fans of my other SW fic, Revelations. I think this little idea had to get out first before it will let me continue on that more lengthy journey. Fingers crossed.)_

* * *

This is Padmé Amidala.

She has held more power in her small hands than most men twice her age. First, as one of the youngest rulers of any planet in the galaxy. Then, as one of the youngest Senators in the Galactic Republic.

She is a fierce warrior both in the political arena and the dusty battlefield. She wields words like weapons , twisting them with such finesse, her opponents are rendered powerless against her persuasion. She is an absolute sharp shooter with a blaster, the laser bolts hitting their mark and driving home

She has known fear, but in a capacity greater than herself. Fear for her family when her own life has been targeted. Fear for her home world and people when the avaricious leaders of the Trade Federation invaded her peaceful planet, wreaking havoc and terror in Theed. Fear for the Republic and the consequences facing the teetering government after the tumultuous events of Geonosis.

As she studies her reflection in the mirror, her brown eyes are almost unrecognizable. There's fear there now, not only for herself, but also for another. A deep-seated unshakeable uncertainty for all that they have jointly put on the line. To be found out is to risk their total destruction. She can only imagine the fallout if their secret was ever to surface. The scandal would shake the very foundations of the galaxy.

But there's also warmth in the depths of the brown staring back at her. A dangerous spark that blossoms from someplace within. Padmé Amidala has certainly known joy and happiness. Her spirits always soar in the presence of her two precious nieces. The weight she carries on her slim shoulders feels less oppressive whenever she gains a hard-earned victory in the Senate. And yet…

This emotion is different; there's softness and strength and a radiance that self-perpetuates into a burning glimmer.

No, Padmé Amidala never let herself feel such a deep connection to another. Such vulnerability and such hope.

Such love.

But the woman staring back at her has, and does, and she believes, always will.

She stares at her own reflection, allowing herself to see her new identity for the first time.

This is Padmé Amidala Skywalker.

* * *

 _In the eve, if nothing amiss  
_ _The wedded couple shall know only bliss  
_ _If the rain should fall from the skies  
_ _Neither bride nor groom will have dry eyes  
_ _If the heavens with storms do churn  
_ _Then all of the galaxy's stars will burn_

As far-off heat lightning arced across the deepening twilit sky, the old Naboo superstition flashed through Padmé's mind. She recalled the vehement argument between her friends over the meaning of the last two lines. Some claimed that a thunderstorm on one's wedding night was the worst luck of all, a coupling of two souls powerful enough to destroy the galaxy. Others claimed the complete opposite, choosing instead to believe that the stars burning was in reference to the couple's love spreading far and wide to touch every being with a lasting legacy.

Never one to believe in omens, Padmé perished the memory from her mind. The afternoon had been unseasonably warm, so it was no surprise that a storm was brewing. Simple as that.

The warm breezes blowing in off the veranda made Padmé shiver nonetheless. She supposed that subconsciously, her own heart tended to side with the pessimists. Squaring her shoulders, Padmé took a deep steadying breath and regarded her reflection one last time.

She had done her make-up in accordance with traditional Naboo custom. It hadn't been too difficult. A slight tinge of dark pink to her lips and the softest smoky eye to convey simultaneous desire and innocence of the new bride. Padmé silently thanked the gods that she had been allowed to do Sola's for her sister's wedding. As if she had anything to fear. Padmé could have gone naked as the day she was born and she was certain Anakin would have stared in awe anyway.

She felt herself flush at the memory of his dark blue gaze drinking her in like water offered to a drowning man. Butterflies flitted in her stomach then. During the ceremony, all Padmé had to do was take Anakin's hands in her own and say a simple, "I do, forever and always." Now though, the butterflies returned in fluttering anticipation of the night to come.

Padmé swallowed her nerves and rose from her seat. Her lacy wedding gown fell comfortingly around her like a warm embrace. For a brief moment, Padmé let herself believe the softness of the fabric were her sister's comforting arms. She wished Sola were present to offer some small piece of advice. Or at the very least, a suggestive thought to leave her cheeks tinged with mild embarrassment.

Her own mental images conveying a very different wish, a small flame of desire lit in Padmé's stomach as she turned to enter the master suite. She wondered if Anakin could feel her nerves tremoring around her. She imagined he could; sometimes she was certain she could feel his as well.

 _Waiting is not going to make this any easier,_ Padmé chided herself. _It's Anakin; you have nothing to be afraid of._

But she was afraid.

Sure, she had dabbled in the world of romance. Unfortunately, dabbled was about all Padmé could call her experience. There had been holding hands and first kisses. There had been fancy dinners and parties. And while she had felt windswept and deliriously happy during those fledgling relationships, nothing compared to the smothering passion that Anakin had ripped out of her sheltered heart.

Just thinking about him made her heart pound almost painfully inside her chest. Her eyes ached to see his handsome face. Her skin tingled for his touch. The desire rose precipitously, overwhelming her nerves, driving her shaking hands for the wooden knob.

Slowly, the heavy door swung open.

Candlelight illuminated the room in a soft yellow glow, their floral scents drifting around the room, mingling with hints of sandalwood that blew in from outside. Lightning flashed reflecting off the lake just visible past the gauzy curtains that flitted on the night breeze. Padmé saw none of it.

Her gaze came to rest on the dark silhouette perched on the edge of the bed. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and suddenly Padmé was drowning in a sea of vibrant blue. She didn't remember consciously taking the first steps toward him. In her memory of this night, she would think of it as an irresistible pull. A magnetism that compelled her to find herself coming to stand between his legs. Her hands found his, and she offered him a timorous smile.

Anakin swallowed apprehensively, his eyes never leaving her face, even when her small hands pulled his heavy robes from his shoulders. Padmé paused, letting his own flesh and metal fingers trace the length of her arms to worry the buttons that held her gown in place.

"You're trembling," Anakin said softly, standing and pulling her close.

"I'm nervous," Padmé whispered into his chest.

"I'm the one breaking the ancient Jedi Code, and you're nervous?"

Padmé ducked her gaze, feeling heat spreading across her skin as more and more of her back was exposed to the warm night air.

"That's not what I meant."

Gently, his fingers caught her chin, asking her to meet his gaze as he sat before her once more. "I know."

With more deftness than he ought to possess, Anakin slipped his hand beneath her gown strap and tugged it free from her shoulder. Silently, her wedding gown fell, forming a puddle of lace at her bare feet. He grinned mischievously at her, catching her arms when they instinctively came to cross over her chest.

"Threepio!"

Padmé's eyes widened in horror, her hands madly scrambling for the discarded Jedi robe at his side and barely manage to wrap herself in the black fabric when Anakin's protocol droid came shuffling in.

"Yes, Master… " Threepio blanched. If a droid's eyes could widen in shock, Padmé thought C-3PO's did when he took stock of the image in front of him. "Oh my, is everything all right?"

Anakin simply shrugged out of the last layers of his Jedi tunics and replied, "Could you bring us some blesswine?" Then turning and not at all acknowledging his brand new wife's fury, he asked, "What kind, love?"

Padmé didn't even blink. "Red," she squeaked.

"Leave it just outside the door," Anakin said.

"Certainly, Master Ani. Oh I know the best vintage, I'll be just a moment," Threepio said, his vocabulator carrying a characteristically happy edge.

When the droid disappeared from view, the door shutting behind him, Padmé rounded on her husband.

"How dare you?" she said, smacking at his bare shoulder.

Laughing, Anakin let one small palm hit with a resounding slap, before catching her other flying fist in his own. Quickly, he spun her, pinning her small frame beneath his and the bed. A loud clap of thunder made both of them startle, their skin sliding together in the just the right way. Padmé shuddered at the proximity, but managed to glower up at Anakin's returning roguish grin.

"That was _not_ funny, Anakin," she said, trying for sternness. Though the way his lips were ghosting over her neck and collarbone made his name come out all breathy.

"But now you're not nervous," he said, smiling against her skin as his mouth worked its way lower.

"You're right, now I'm mad."

Anakin climbed back up her to capture her mouth in a deep lingering kiss. The flame burning in her belly flared hotly. The groan escaped her lips involuntarily when he withdrew.

"Still mad?"

Not trusting her voice, Padmé narrowed her eyes in mock annoyance which only broadened Anakin's triumphant grin.

A knock at the door made him turn his head, but Padmé, riding the courage blazing in her awakened desire, twistedd his Padawan braid in her fingers. She pulled once sharply, bringing his face within inches of hers.

"We'll get it later," she whispered against his lips.

Lightning flashed wickedly, its ferocity rivaling Anakin's own as he pressed his lips to hers, leading her soft mouth in an age old dance. Padmé let herself fall prey to his rhythm, surprising herself when her body twisted knowingly beneath his touch. Her own hands roamed the broad muscles flexing in his back, flirting along the waist of his pants. Anakin had curled his fingers enticingly behind her back and at her hip.

The shyness returned as blue eyes met brown. Padmé felt her heart slamming inside her ribs, the blood roaring in her ears. Anakin's hot breath against the heat of her cheek, and all she could think was it wasn't near enough.

She wanted to his heart beating with hers. To feel the pulse of his blood in his veins. To feel the slide of skin against skin. She could feel his want for all of it too. She nodded once, and together they pulled away the last pieces of fabric separating them.

Rain began to drum a steady cadence against the window panes as Anakin began to move. A gust of wind burst through the open veranda doors, stealing the candlelight from the room. She was thankful for the moment of darkness stealing the brief expression of pain from her husband when he slid into her. Anakin felt her body tense beneath him anyway and stilled, waiting for her permission to continue.

Carefully, Padmé rolled her hips once, adjusting to the uncomfortable but not entirely unpleasant feeling of him. Anakin groaned softly in her ear at the movement, and she let herself smile. She, Padmé Amidala, was solely responsible for pulling such noises from the Chosen One. The headiness of her new found power made her bold.

One hand placing flat to his lower back, Padmé arched again, encouraging him to move with her. The slip and friction between her legs made her vision spot as Anakin slid against all the raw nerves. Her own gasp of surprise was all the temptation Anakin could stand. He began a slow and steady pace, letting her give dictate his take.

As the storm raged outside, Padmé began to coo soft commands. Words like _please_ and _yes_ and _more_. Anakin didn't think he had ever heard anything more beautiful and changed his rhythm to whatever the angel beneath him wanted.

Padmé fought to keep her eyes on her husband's face but the sensation between her legs was threatening to pull her under. Her fingers were digging into his back as she clung to him. Lightning flickered behind her closed eyes seemingly in tandem with the white spots that fired with his every thrust. The thunder matched the swell of her own pulse, and with one final movement, her world shattered in a brilliant blaze of white heat and light, Anakin quickly following over the edge, his own yell drowned by the rumbling of the storm.

Collapsing to his side, Anakin moaned her name as his senses slowly descended from the heavens. Padmé traced the echo on his lips with the pads of her fingers and smiled when he opened his eyes. He grinned back, shyly.

The storm quieted around them, leaving a soothing rainfall to serenade them. Fingers gently roamed and tracked new paths over uncharted skin, stoking another inferno to blaze to life.

As red blesswine lay forgotten in the hallway, the clouds gently left without so much as a good-bye, revealing a magnificently burning night sky to watch over the newlyweds.

 _~Finis_


End file.
